If Wishes Were Kisses
by OrangePlum
Summary: America recounts many kisses over the centuries. Various pairings inside.


Author's Notes: I was bored… If you notice any language problems, please inform me kindly so I can fix them. Thank you.

_Pairings mentioned:_ UK/US, Rus/US, FR/US, Spain/US, Can/US, US/JP, Prus/US, US/Liechtenstein, US/Vietnam, Belarus/US, American people/US

Not in order of event. Enjoy.

* * *

**_His first:_**

Not strange at all, America's first had been when he was still but a young colony with his neighbor up north. Deep in the woods with puffy eyes and shaking shoulders, his body was engulfed with sobs of England leaving him once more. His chubby cheeks were sticky with tears and his nose was running uncontrollably when a timid boy with silky hair and timid eyes approached him.

"What's wrong?" Canada had asked as he leaned down to the upset American's eyelevel. He received a pout as America turned away bitterly. Shyly, Canada persisted, trying to get America to stop his crying by offering to do or get things for him.

"I want England," America had said through hiccups. Canada leaned back on his heels and pursed his lips in hesitation, withdrawing somewhat into himself. He watched as his twin resumed his incomprehensible sounds and wiped at his face. He knew all too well what it was like to be so young and separated from the person you cared about the most.

Awkwardly, Canada had leaned forward – hoping to mimic something he had seen England do once – and brushed America's bangs aside to kiss his forehead. America stilled as Canada kissed his nose and placed a gentle, yet soft kiss against his lips.

"I can wait for him with you," Canada had said as he sat beside the stunned boy.

Such a simple action, and yet Canada had done it. He had stolen America's first kiss in a kind gesture as they waited in the woods till dusk for someone they both knew wouldn't be coming.

**_His most random:_**

When you're in the middle of walking through a bar door to bitterly pick up a raving drunk Briton in the middle of the night, you don't really expect to be pushed against a table and tongued to death by an eccentric albino who tasted like cheap German beer.

Really, the biting was unnecessary.

**_His most unwanted:_**

Stubble was not a fun feeling when kissing someone. Stubble was not a fun feeling _especially_ when the reason why you were kissing someone was to complete a business transaction.

America tried not to grimace, knowing that France could retract his bargain and keep the Louisiana territory if he didn't make this believable. But kissing someone who was practically purring as they rubbed against you, document held high over your head to be unreachable, was no easy matter.

It was definitely not an easy matter when it was in front of both countries' officials and the overall humiliation sunk into your chest.

"_Angleterre sera malheureuse avec vous, la chère colonie_," France said as he pulled away, giving a coy smile in amusement at America's expression. America had no idea what he'd said at the time, not until many centuries later when France explained where he'd gotten his black eyes from from so long ago.

**_His most anticipated:_**

Being apart for nearly two hundred years really put a kick back into someone's system. Pressed against a cheap hotel bed with heavy breaths and eager touching, America kissed England like he needed to quench something that had been residing in the back of his mouth for centuries.

Who knew it only took a Revolution and two World Wars to get the ball rolling again?

Even after feeling like his lips were sore, America kissed England all till dawn and then some.

**_His scariest:_**

Nothing could describe the jolt up his spine when Belarus's tongue entered his mouth. Damn Russia for ducking out of the way.

It was nothing compared to the second jolt when Belarus saw her mistake and pressed her knife deathly close to his jugular with a menacing glint in her eyes. Damn Russia, indeed.

**_His sweetest:_**

Kissing Japan was like kissing a cloud filled with sugar. Despite eating fish and vegetables for most of his diet, America could only describe his taste as sweet, much like cotton candy. Perhaps it was just the situation of being beckoned down to the crippled nation in the hospital bed while America dropped his bouquet, his chest being filled to the brim with guilt at what he'd done. And then Japan touched his lips with his own, small fingers sliding through the cornflower locks at the back of his neck as they kissed.

America didn't feel as though he deserved that unexpected kiss, but when he looked with glossy eyes that were as big as dinner plates down into the inky eyes of his former enemy, America knew Japan tasted as sweet as he seemed.

He didn't eat dessert any time after he shared a kiss with Japan.

**_His most heated:_**

Being pushed against a wall the moment you walked into a room was a very flattering feeling. Especially when that someone was bitching at you a few months ago about not caring enough about what went on with them. England pawed at him until he was breathless and putty in England's hands as the Briton spoke between kisses, "About bloody time."

America simply laughed before he was cut off with a groan as a knee pressed against his groin. "It was a slow news day."

Who knew it just took obsessing over Prince William's engagement to Kate Middleton to get England to jump him in his office.

**_His falsest:_**

"_No preocúpese, poco un_. There is nothing to worry about, _chico_," Spain reassured as he bent down to the teenager and sprinkled a kiss to his lips. America furrowed his brow, unsure if he should believe the Spaniard as he gazed out at his native people. No matter how many times Spain reassured him and gave him a soothing peck on the lips to keep him occupied, America still didn't feel right. Somewhere deep inside him there was an ache.

It started when foreigners started carving out pieces of his people's land. Now this ache resonated down to his legs and back up, persistent upon staying.

But Spain's fingers through his hair as the young American watched the Spaniard gaze out at his missions with a broad smile quelled the blonde's worries that rested on his tongue. After all, how could someone with such kind eyes lie to him?

**_His harshest:_**

The smell of Agent Orange did nothing but make Vietnam's mouth taste more bitter than it did. She was not a happy camper, but then again, neither was he.

**_His kindest:_**

Kisses littered his shoulder over the bloodied bandages as America stared out into the sky in a listless daze. He would say he felt numb if not for the stinging radiating down his right side threatening to pull him from consciousness yet again. More kisses rained down his arm as England gently grasped his battered hand in his own, green eyes looking for America's.

It hurt. It hurt so very much as America looked at the smoke in the sky in the distance. He felt his vision blur with water he thought dried up after crying for so long. England cradled his face in his hands, willing America to lean against him for support and softly rock him.

"Shh, shh. It's alright, Alfred. It will be alright, so no more tears."

Even though England's words were soothing, there was something lacing his voice that was strained and angered. America knew what it was but he didn't say anything and simply tried to block out the shouts and cries echoing in his ears from those two towers now gone. England kissed him reassuringly and everything seemed to get better, if only for those few seconds.

**_His most aggressive:_**

Kissing Russia could be equally described as kissing a grizzly bear. It was harsh, painful, rough, and made you struggle for everything you're worth. He didn't know how it happened. After all, they hated each other. There was an arm's race going on for goodness sake! However, he supposed when push came to shove, Russia did both. Literally.

He _pushed _America over the couch in his office and _shoved_ him down on the floor when he tried to get up.

Nothing like a Cold War to release some sexual tension…not that there was any to begin with…

**_His drunkest:_**

He wasn't 100 percent sure, but America thought that he saw Liechtenstein's blurry face when he tried to recall the night before. She was a very petite and soft girl (hey, now he knew from personal experience).

Maybe that was why he had an ache on his face with a mark that looked suspiciously like Switzerland's pistol.

**_His longest:_**

Japan sure wasn't what he appeared to be. Such a reserved individual didn't seem as powerful and full of stamina as he was. Turned out that when excited, his lips were like an octopus suction cup. America never felt so lightheaded in all his life. Two hours well spent, indeed.

**_His saddest:_**

America wasn't surprised when England pushed him away, glaring as best he could in a tattered uniform soaked to the bone. It wasn't like they were on good terms anymore. Duh, he'd just won his independence. Stopping by the Briton's house to give him his things and say his goodbyes wasn't going to make everything all better.

And when England cursed him out in front of his fireplace screaming, knocking over glass and furniture, America recoiled despairingly. Seeing England like this hurt him just as much as it hurt England to be forced out.

But when he tried one more time, America was surprised when England pulled him close and sobbed against his mouth, every vibration twisting a terrible knot inside of America's chest.

So independence had a bittersweet taste.

**_His most exotic:_**

He didn't think that was what China had meant with that thinned lipped smile when he offered to show him the Great Wall.

**_His most cherished:_**

When that little girl grabbed his hand and tugged at him to lean down as the fireworks burst across the sky, America smiled curiously at her with blinking blue eyes. Her chubby cheeks lit up as she leaned forward and kissed his nose.

"Happy Birthday," she giggled, and it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.


End file.
